


On the Crossroads

by KathyRoland



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, Deals With The Devil, Gen, Gore, Hurt/Comfort, Ignorance is not bliss, M/M, Peter fucks up, Road Trip, Violence, tags to be added later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-04-21 14:32:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14286993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KathyRoland/pseuds/KathyRoland
Summary: Looking for a way to avert disaster, Peter Hale makes a deal one night with a being with it's own agenda.  He does not know what it was that he bargained away, nor it's importance to him or the rest of the world, but the consequences of his actions will take him a journey that he could have never anticipated.





	1. Chapter 1

Peter stepped carefully through the front yard of the pack’s main house, choosing his steps carefully to make no noise that might wake someone up. He knows he could be stomping at this point and no one would stir, but in all things he preferred to take the more cautious route. Behind him, the pack slumbered, some in piles with each other and others by themselves. The adults were tired after months of non-stop research, and the young pups, while ignorant of the cause, were all more than aware of the stress the rest of the pack was dealing with. Everyone’s energy was sapped.

Over a month ago they had received a message from a known seer and friend of Talia’s. The seer had seen a vision of ruin for the Hale pack. Hunters burning them alive. The few details that the seer had known were little to go off of- three Hales would survive, but be driven to madness and ruin each. Their defenses would be breached. There would be betrayal. And while it was unknown when exactly it would happen, the seer had thought it might be in fall. It was July now.

Talia had tried to keep it to herself, not wanting to get Peter involved in it, insisting that he needed to focus on finishing the last of the semester at the local college. But Peter had known something was wrong, and pushed and pulled at her until the truth had come out. After that, Peter had had her involve all the adult members of the pack. It was everyone’s ruin after all. The pups were kept out of it, but they knew things were happening. Each one had been pulled out of school, the pack terrified of losing them.

Their pack territory had already been warded. But if the vision was true, those wards would fail. Their druid was protected, but either he would be taken down or he might be the betrayer who would bring ruin to them all. Peter had never trusted Deaton, and Talia was finally listening to him. Their allies were of little use with the dearth of information they had. They knew disaster was coming, but they did not know how to avert it. The seer had seen no change in the vision since she had informed Talia. 

Peter knew that the fact that the seer had reached out was proof enough that their fate could be changed. Seers only speak when there is value in speaking and that one was friendly enough with Talia not to send her on a pointless chase. That being said, it was beginning to look like the answer on how the pack could avert the crisis was unknowable for the moment.

But Peter knows how to find out. His constant quest for knowledge, even forbidden knowledge had given him a thread of hope that he could avert the crisis. As with all great boons, it would come with a great price. He had read of a ritual, a summoning for a being of immense cruelty and power. That being, that demon, would do much if given the right price. The books spoke of the offering of one’s soul. Being born and raised within a werewolf clan, Peter had very little interaction with the Christian faith, so the talk of a soul or Hell was more abstract than anything for him.

Peter wasn’t certain he really believed in a soul or afterlife, but he supposed if the Christians of the world were correct an afterlife in Hell was a price he was willing to pay for the survival of his pack. Talia would have never let him go through with it, so Peter had kept his research and planning secret. Tonight was the night when everything had fallen into place. He had the components of the ritual to summon the demon. No one was aware enough to hear him leave. He knew of a crossroads that was close enough to get to quickly, but isolated enough he would have no fear of discovery. He may not be the left hand of his sister yet, and with this deal he likely never would be- but he would be performing the most important and sacred duty of the left hand- sacrificing the self for the pack. Walking in the shadows to shield the others and striking at the weak spot of his enemies. He would bargain with this demon. He would sell his soul for his pack. And he would succeed tonight.

He reached the crossroad that he had chosen the for the night. It is rarely used and deep in the woods, a dirt road crossed by a small pathway. It will be enough. His steps slowed as he approached and despite himself, Peter’s heart started to beat fast. His wolf howled at him to turn back, but Peter was too willful to listen This was something he could do. This was a way to prevent absolute ruin to all he held dear.

With his hands and claws he dug a small hole in the soft dirt at the center of the crossroad. He took out the container of blood he had liberated from a buck he had killed earlier in the day and poured in into the opening of earth. He savagely ripped out some chunks of his own hair and lit it on fire over the pool of blood as he recited the words to summon the being.

The wind stirred.

Peter waited.

Gradually, the outside noises, the chirping of insects and birds and the rustling of vegetation grew silent. The air became almost stagnant and heavy. 

In a space of a breath, a large man appeared before him. There was no transition from one blink to the next, he was just suddenly there. He was broad shouldered and towered over Peter. The man’s dark skin is pitted and scarred, scarification marks lined his cheek bones and his lips were torn at the edges. The man was wearing no shirt and only low hanging threadbare trousers, revealing a torso lined with ropy thick scars that criss crossed over him, one over another leaving little skin untouched. The man’s eyes were a pale yellow that reflected the sliver of moon overhead. He regarded Peter imperiously, his massive arms folded over his chest and a sneer on his tattered and torn lips.

“So a wolf calls me.”

Peter swallowed and finds himself speechless. He shakily stood up. An odor of burnt flesh emanated from the towering man and Peter tried not to breathe too deeply. He nodded, shivering.

“And you think you are willing to pay the price for your selfishness little boy?” The being sneered.

Peter barely kept himself from stepping back at the baleful gaze that settled heavy upon him.

“I want to protect my pack.” His words rose up finally.

“Little boy, you are no pious thing. It is from a place of selfishness and greed you want to save your pack. You do not do it for them. You do it for yourself. You are not willing to live without them. You know you will survive the fire and you are not strong enough without them. You are weak and selfish.”

“Very well. It is selfish. But it is what I want.”

“And you think I will just give it to you? For what? What do you think to pay?”

Peter felt adrift and panicked. This was not going the way he thought it would. Before he could try to answer, the man continued.

“You think I want your tattered pathetic little soul?” The demon flicked a hand dismissively. “There is no such thing. People manage their destinies through their actions, not through the dreamed up lore from those long dead.”

“What do you bargain for if not souls?”

The demon scoffed. “Do you bring nothing for me? No token, no gift? And yet you DEMAND?” The demon seemed to grow even further, tower over Peter. His voice boomed through the night. Despite himself, Peter found himself cringing back in fear at the malevolence directed at him.

He held his hands out, beseeching. “What is it that I can give you for my packs’ protection?”

The demon looked at him. “A child.”

Peter blinked, startled. Surely, the demon did not want him to give up one of the pack pups? He would not, he could not.

The demon continued. “In your pathetic little town, there has been one born of great power. I want that power- I will have it. But there are protections around the infant, such that I cannot take it from this realm. But you can. You can breach the protections. You can give me the child to take. If you do this, I will grant you your boon.”

Peter didn’t wait a moment. “I will do it.” 

One life for the life of his pack was worth it, it had to be. 

“You have until dawn to bring the infant to me.”

“And where is it?”

The demon threw out his arm suddenly, causing Peter to take a quick step back. He felt his arm start to tingle and he looked down. From his hand a thing dark red line originated and flowed out, heading away from him.

“Follow it. You will find what I want.”

Peter nodded his head. He paused, wondering if he should say or do anything more. The demon stared dispassionately back at him. He turned away and started to follow the line. 

The journey Peter took following the line did not take long at all. He was led to the outskirts of the town to a small neighborhood. The house he was led to had all the lights turned off for the night, but he listened and heard three heartbeats in slumber. He studied the house. The red line was gathered at a back window, so Peter jumped lightly up to the roof and carefully scaled over to it. A flick of his claws and some slight pressure and the window was open despite the lock.

He paused briefly. Inside a woman slept on a rocking chair. Across from her, a crib held a sleeping child. 

He swallowed, before tentatively stepping inside.

The woman’s eyes flew open, alert awareness zeroing in her gaze to him.

“How dare-” Her voice was high and raised.

Peter leapt at her, pushing her against the wall and banging her head sharply against it, hoping to knock her out.

She grunted at the impact but wasn’t subdued. 

He closed his hand over her mouth and muffled the angry scream from her. He hands flew up and gorged at his eyes. Peter clenched his jaw to withhold his own cry of pain as her nails punctured his right eye and drew blood and fluid.

Grimacing, he slammed her head once more against the wall, this time with more strength. She stopped. She lay still.

Peter rapidly blinked his healing eye.

She wasn’t breathing. 

Swallowing, he looked away. He was doing what he had to do. He turned to regard the crib.

The infant was awake and silently staring at him. It was young. Too young to lift its head, but still it stared at Peter.

Not letting himself think of it, Peter walked over and picked it up. The small body relaxed into his arms and blinked slowly up at him. A soft coo sounded from the baby and the it smiled toothless at him.

Peter turned and jumped out the window. He started a easy loop to get back to the crossroads.

He found himself clutching the child close to his breast as he ran through the night. A warmth originated from the small body, and a sense of completion seemed to thrum through him.

His wolf was snarling at him, fighting against his mind at what his task was. Peter had never been in a fight with his wolf, but he found it hard not to stop and turn around. His wolf was raging against him, but Peter was determined. He did not know why this child was important, but he could not afford to care. This was for his pack. This was for himself, for the demon was correct in knowing Peter as selfish. He would not, could not live in a world without his own pack. He would protect them, no matter what the means.

Soon he came to the clearing and the crossroad.

The demon stood impassively in the center. 

“You have it.”

Peter stopped in front of the demon. “Yes.”

The demon reached forward and plucked the child from Peter’s arms. Immediately, the baby started to wail and scream.

The demon looked at Peter. “Your boon is granted.”

And then it was gone. Peter stood in the center of the crossroads as sound slowly started up again. He could not stop the frantic beating of his heart.

He had done it. He had saved his pack.


	2. Chapter 2

Peter slept badly that night. When he should have felt relief, he felt only apprehension. His wolf, his second half seemed to fluctuate between moments of complete silence and then fly into rages. Peter, who had always had a close connection with his second half, didn’t understand. He felt haunted, uneasy. There was no true sense of relief. 

When he gave up on trying to sleep in the morning, he found the pack mulling about in confusion. Something had happened. Worried, he approached his alpha and sister, Talia.

“Peter.” She nodded at him. “We have a situation.”

Peter quirked an eyebrow. “I’m aware.”

“No, this is something else, though it may be related. Last night, someone took out the Argent clan- they were burned alive, every man, woman, and child in the clan.”

Peter blinked, his thoughts flying. He had been under the impression that the Argent’s had held no ill will toward the pack, but if they were killed the very night he made the deal…

“Were any of them near us?”

“Kate Argent and her father, Gerald.” Talia looked at him with narrowed eyes. “You know something. What?”

“I made a deal. I found a way to avert our proposed future.”

Talia looked around. They were standing in the kitchen, and some of the pack including the children were in hearing distance. She jerked her head to her office. “Come with me.”

Peter followed her into the soundproofed room. His sister sat at her desk and looked at him steadily. “Explain.”

“There was a creature. It would grant a boon to a requester for a price. I paid the price. It agreed to save us from our deaths. I suspect that it went about that by killing those who would have killed us.”

Talia’s eyes narrowed. “There were some rumors about Gerald. But he was not the only one killed. Everyone in the clan was. You can’t think that they all were going to kill us. Some of the ones killed were children!”

Peter spread his hands. “The creature I summoned was by no means benevolent.”

Talia leaned forward. “And what was the price you paid, Peter?”

Peter fought the urge to look away. He knew his sister would have a hard time accepting what he did. “A child. It said it was a being of immense power that it could not touch. It had me fetch the child to it.”

“A child?!” Talia surged up. “You sacrificed an innocent for your own life?”

“For my pack, yes!”

“Peter-” She paused. A horrible realization dawned in her eyes. “What child was this?”

“I don’t know.” He described the house he had entered the previous night.

Talia stared at him with wide eyes. “Oh my god- do you have any idea what you have done?”

Peter stared at her. “What I needed to do for the safety of this pack.”

“How did you get past Claudia?” She murmured. “You may have think you saved the pack but by taking her son, you have started a vendetta that we cannot hope to win.” Claudia must have been the woman in the room that night.

Peter looked away. “She’s dead.” He did not know who the family was or why it was important. He had a sinking feeling though. 

Talia leaned back in the chair in shock. “What?”

“It was an accident, we struggled. I tried to subdue her but she died.”

“Do you have any idea of what you have done? What you have wrought on us, on this town?”

His alpha’s eyes flashed red as she surged up and leaned across the desk, shaking with rage.

Peter lowered his eyes and exposed his neck. “No alpha. I did what I had to to save us.”

“What you had to!” Talia turned around and started pacing. She repeated angrily, “You had to!”

Peter felt lost. He had no idea what the bigger picture was here.

Talia stilled and took in a deep breath. She turned and looked back to her brother, a coldness he had never seen in her eyes.

“I would rather us all burn for the rest of eternity then for your actions to have taken place. You went behind my back to do this, because you knew I would disapprove. You have cost us, and everyone, something that was precious and without measure.” She stopped and stared at her brother.

“I don’t understand.” Peter felt lost and adrift. 

“I do not owe it to you to explain. You cannot be trusted with some knowledge clearly.” Talia was still staring at him coldly. She looked away briefly before regarding him once more.

“You cannot-” Her breath hitched. She breathed in again and stood straight. Peter stared back apprehensively. 

“Peter Hale,” she intoned. 

Peter took a small step back.

“You are not welcome here. Begone.”

Peter fell to his knees as his pack bounds were ripped from him. He breathed in a sharp pained breath as a whine fell from his lips. His mind felt shattered, the sense of safety and belonging he had always had and always taken for granted was gone. 

He looked up, silently crying, at his sister. 

She flashed his eyes at him. “Go.”

“Talia…”

She stepped forward, her claws out and lip curled. 

“I will not hesitate to kill you if you do not leave now. Go.”

Shaking, Peter stumbled to his feet. He backed up and blindly opened the door behind him. The house was silent, every member shocked at what was happening.

He turned around. He left the house. He got into his car and drove down the long winding driveway. 

He kept driving. In saving them, he had lost his pack.


	3. Chapter 3

Peter drove throughout the day. He must have stopped at some point to refill the gas for his vehicle, but it seemed he blinked and found himself in an idling car pulled to the side of the road. He didn’t know where he was, just that he was far from home.

Home.

He reached out tentatively within himself, trying to find his pack bonds. They were gone, severed brutally by his once alpha.

Peter, the one who had always had a plan B, a way out of an impossible situation, was lost. 

His wolf raged against him. Briefly, he considered shifting, letting it take over. It was an appealing thought. When a werewolf shifted, the separation between human and wolf grew thin, and they combined. With the correct balance with beast and man, a werewolf was near unstoppable- the wits of the human with the instincts of a wolf. Peter had always been balanced with his own wolf. Now, with the wolf raging within him he knew there would be no balance. If he shifted, the wolf would take over completely. With the rabid beast within him, it would be unlikely that the wolf would ever give back control to him. 

It was an appealing thought- fade down and let his wolf take over. With its current madness, it would likely start a bloodbath until a hunter put them down. 

With a sharp breath in, Peter shook himself. He would not go down that path unless there was truly nothing left. For now, he would survive. He would find a place for himself in this now foreign world, he could make it by himself.

He took in the sight around him. He was in a rundown town at the edge of a highway. The sun was setting. He felt hunger pains, as he had not eaten all day. 

First things first, he thought. He would find a place to rest and recover. Then he would find food.

Later that night, Peter sat on the hotels bed and just breathed. He knew he needed to make plans, find a pack that would take an exiled omega like himself in. It would need to be a pack that didn’t have ties to Talia though for none of her allies would insult her by taking in one that she cast out.

He frowned. He may need to leave the county to truly find a pack worth being in that would take him in. Talia’s reach was long and she was well-respected. 

“You look like you’re thinking deep thoughts.”

Peter’s head snapped up and he zeroed into the voice. A young man, possibly a teenager sat in the chair by the window.

Peter’s claws flashed out and he was off the bed, crouched. Even seeing the man with his eyes, Peter’s other senses could not find him. There was no sound, not even a heartbeat from the other person in the room.

For his part, the man just smiled and leaned back into his chair, sprawling out his legs as he settled into a comfortable position. “Relax. If I wanted you dead or hurt, you would be.”

“Who are you?” Peter growled out. The man was between him and the exit, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t make his own exit if he needed to- the walls were thin enough that Peter could break through them and escape if need be. On the other hand, the man didn’t look like he would be much of a threat in a fight, but Peter did not trust appearances here. This was a man who snuck up on him, who came into his room without his knowledge and showed no fear at the sight of a cornered werewolf.

“I go by Stiles.” 

“But that’s not your name.” 

The man shrugged. “Nope.” 

Peter narrowed his eyes. “What do you want?”

Stiles cocked his head the side and studied him. “You did something very stupid. But you did it to protect those who you love.” He paused and let the silence sink in before continuing. “I’m here to follow you and to guide you. You know that curse, ‘may you live in interesting times’? You just started interesting times for every single person on this planet.”

Peter’s thoughts were flying. He knew that he was missing a lot of information. Who was the being he made the deal with? What was so important about the child he handed over? And what had Talia known?

“And if I tell you I don’t want you to follow me or to guide me?”

The man shrugged carelessly. “You can’t get rid of me. I’m here for as long as I need to be.”

Peter stepped forward and flashed his eyes. “Oh really?”

With an almost lazy grace, the man stood up and stepped up to Peter. Peter tensed but the man ignored it. Slowly the man reached up and placed his hand on Peter’s shoulder. Then through his shoulder. Peter felt nothing as Stiles’ hand phased through his body.

“I’m not really on this plane of existence right now. There’s nothing you can do to get rid of me.”

Peter snarled and swiped out his hand, claws extended. It passed through Stiles’ head. It was as if he was a ghost.

“You’re stuck with me.” There was dark amusement in the man’s grin as he stepped away and settled back into the chair. “Better get used to it.”

 

Peter spent the second night in a row largely sleepless. His “guest” had contorted himself in an array of crooked limbs and a bent spine and was sleeping with his mouth open, snoring away. 

Peter had planned on sneaking past him since he seemed insensible to the rest of the world in his sleep, but one thing stopped him- his wolf. The wolf was calm with the man in the room. The raging had quieted down to contentment with their guest. Peter couldn’t figure it out. Every time he stood to leave the wolf would once more start to rage against him, straining against their bond and threatening to take over. 

Peter didn’t know what it was that his wolf knew about the man that he didn’t. But he felt it wise to listen to his wolf here. So he settled into the hotel bed and observed his guest. 

The man didn’t look extraordinary in any sense, there was nothing really to point him out as ‘other’. The man was long limbed and gangly. He his skin was pale, the kind of paleness that wasn’t often seen in California that came from a great lack of sun. He had dark moles that seemed to add to his features rather than take away. If Peter had passed him on the street, he likely wouldn’t have looked twice. 

Who was he? Why did he say he was here to guide Peter? 

If there was one thing Peter hated, it was knowing he was missing a piece of the puzzle. In this case, he felt so adrift it was as if he only had a quarter of the puzzle. Events were happening in the world that he could only scratch the surface of.

He knew from Talia’s reaction that he had started something with his actions. But he doesn’t know what.

What was the bigger picture here, he wondered. He looked once more the slumbering man. Would he be a help or a hindrance? Yet one more thing Peter didn’t know.

He scowled and settled in to a long night ahead.


	4. Chapter 4

In the morning the sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and Stiles was talking.

He had been talking from the moment he got up, but it was nothing Peter particularly wanted to hear.

“And so that is why I need to find one and take it and cuddle it and I WON’T name it Wolverine. Maybe Chuck?”

The man stopped to draw breath. Peter hastily interjected before Stiles could go on yet another tangent.

“Fascinating as this all is,” he drawled making it clear it was anything but, “I do believe you said you were here to guide me? How about some answers?”

The man quirked a grin at him. “How about some questions?”

“Why are you here, specifically?”

“I’m here to be your backup in this new world you’ve created!” Stiles flung out his arms and posed. “I’ll be the Robin to your Batman!” He paused. “Or maybe your Alfred.” He scrunched up his face then nodded his head decisively. He suddenly stood straight and formal. “Yes, I AM your Alfred.”

Peter felt a headache coming on. “I hardly plan on putting on black tights and stopping evil doers.”

“Nope,” The man popped the word obnoxiously. “But you started the big bad coming and you’re one of the few who can stop it.”

Peter zeroed in on him. It was frustrating that he could hear no heartbeat or other changes in the man to signify decete so he had to rely on what he saw and heard from his voice. “What is this “big bad” that I started?”

“Dude, I could hear the quotation marks!”

Peter growled at him. “Answer me!”

Sighing theatrically, Stiles huffed and settled back to regard him. “You made a deal with what can be best described as the devil, dude. What did you think was going to happen?”

“I thought I would save my- the pack.” Peter stumbled, the loss still too painful.

“Well, you did but only in the short term. They might not be dying now, but they will be in the future.” He shrugged expansively. “Everyone will be, really.”

“Why? What- who was the child I gave?”

“Did you ever stop to wonder why if the being had so much power, it couldn’t get to him but you could?”

Peter paused. He recalled the demon telling him there were protections around the baby. His thoughts whirled. He hadn’t stopped to consider which protections they were. Slowly he answered, “I had assumed that whatever protections were in place were keyed against that demon.”

“And you know what they say about assumptions?”

“Then why could I get the child, why was it so easy for me to- to get the child?”

“You mean why was it so easy to kill what was arguably the most powerful magic user in the world that night? Why it was so easy to steal away that life and offer it up?” Stiles didn’t look laid back and amused any more. There was a darkness under his eyes and his shadow seemed to drag out. The room started to feel smaller.

Peter tensed.

The moment was gone. Stiles was back to looking like an easy going joker. “Because ultimately you were supposed to protect that kid. You were never meant to be the left hand of your pack. That wasn’t what they were training you for. You were meant to be the protector of the very person you gave away.”

Somehow, Peter knew Stiles was speaking the absolute truth. His mind flashed back to the many inconsistencies that he had noticed but found excuses for- things he thought would be explained in time. His training hadn’t been heavy on the politics that a pack’s left hand might need to know. He knew how to assassinate from the shadows, how to blend in, how to infiltrate the most secure places. Things that Talia with her strong position among the surrounding supernatural community didn’t need a left hand to do. He had been trained in a war position, not the peace position that Talia would have needed.

“Who was the child?” He asked into the silence.

Stiles smiled bitterly. “He was a spark. He was tied to the very source of power that your old pack protects, the Nemeton.”

Peter furled his brows. He knew sparks were few and far between- they were magic users with no boundaries, a vast unquestionable source of power. But a spark wouldn’t need a left hand, they could easily protect themselves even in infanthood.

“What does it mean for a spark to be bound to a Nemeton?”

“It means that Nemeton becomes the most powerful beacon in the world. A Nemeton with infinite power can do so much. So much good. Or so much destruction. More than you can imagine actually.”

“And if the demon has that power?”

“The being you gave the child to can and will use it to destroy the world. Congratulations Peter Hale, you just started the apocalypse.”


	5. Chapter 5

After the discussion in the morning, Peter went for a run. He didn’t allow himself to wonder if he was quite literally running away from his problems.

As a contrast to what it had been for the past couple of days, his wolf seemed to have calmed down and quieted. He felt he could finally let it come to the forefront without losing himself.

He let his wolf to the front, let it take over his body and shifted. Immediately, as his four feet planted onto the ground he relaxed. He and his wolf had been fighting against each other for too long, the act of Peter giving up to the wolf relaxed their bond.

They sniffed the air deeply and immediately sneezed. It was not packland. It was a foreign place to the both of them.

With a bound, they set to exploring the area. Settling into an easy loop they ran quickly over the flat land.

Later, the wolf turned around and circled back. They would return to the hotel and return to Stiles. The wolf did not care that the man claimed the world was going to end- to the wolf something more fundamental had shifted. Where Peter may care about the big picture and the outside world, the wolf had little thought to such things. But it seemed eager to get back to Stiles.

As they approached the parking lot of the isolated hotel, the wolf faded back once more and Peter strode forward, shifted once again to human. He paused, looking down at his nudity. Where he and his family were used to being without clothes at an end of a shift, he doubted any passerby would be as nonchalant. He quickened his steps and quickly went to where he had stored his clothes.

The act of furtively dressing seemed to underline just how cut off Peter was from the life he had taken for granted. He was cast out and unprotected. 

The calmness from the run dissipated.

And if Stiles was to be believed, the situation was about to get much worse. If he started it, could Peter stop it? Was he expected to, was that why Stiles was with him?

Huffing, Peter strode forward to the hotel room, determined to get more answers from the mysterious man. 

He opened the door to an empty room. He looked around, no sign of the other.

Scowling, Peter settled in- perhaps the man had left for something. He had to come back, didn’t he?

Stiles did not return that night. Peter was reduced to sitting on his bed and watching cable news.

One politician had an affair with a teenager. A celebrity was caught making homophobic remarks. A popular band broke up.

Nothing showing the world was ending. Just the banal items of a news culture trying to get as much attention as possible.

Thinking of turning it off, Peter paused when one story came up.

“Today, scientists sound the alarm,” began the newscaster. “The temperature of all five oceans has dropped suddenly by two to five degrees, the highest drop being seen in the Pacific Ocean. It is currently unknown what is causing this, but this could have a large effect on both the life that lives in the ocean and future weather patterns.”

Peter zeroed in. It seemed an odd thing to worry about- not quite the earthquakes and rain of fire Hollywood liked to emphasize apocalypses with, but was this the start of what Stiles had warned of?

The newscaster certainly didn’t think so, as she had already moved on to a story about another politician’s ill conceived tweets.

Scowling, Peter turned off the TV.

He was tired. After little sleep in the past few days and his run, he felt he might finally get to sleep a full night.

He was wrong. Peter was brought abruptly out of sleep not by his internal clock, or sunlight, or even an alarm, but by Stiles.

“Poke.” 

“Poke.”

“Poke.”

Stiles didn’t just speak the word into Peter’s ear. He also completed the action, his finger jabbing Peter in the side as he spoke out loud.

Peter growled lowly.

“Poke.” His stomach was jabbed again.

Peter’s lip curled up in a snarl as he surged up and swiped at Stiles.

His hand passed through the man.

He stopped, his brain firing back up as sleep faded away. “How is it that you can touch me, but I can’t touch you? Do you have control over being corporeal?”

The man grinned unrepentant at him. “That would be telling. I answered your questions yesterday. No more today. Today is a day of action, not talking. Now get up!”

Peter sat up and stared down the boy. “I am not yours to command,” he growled. “I will not obey orders.”

“No?” There was a dangerous glint in Stiles eyes.

“No.”

“Well then, how ‘bout a suggestion? I suggest you get your furry ass in gear and start driving. You need to get to Yellowstone by tomorrow at sundown.”

“Why?”

“I’m here to guide you. I’m guiding you to Yellowstone.” His stern face melted into a grin. “Just don’t scare the wildlife.”

“And if I don’t follow your guidance?”

“Then you don’t. It’s hard to screw up worse than you already have. I’m here to give you a second chance. Take it or not- it’s your choice.” With that that the man was gone in a blink of an eye.

Peter frowned at the empty space in front of him. Why Yellowstone?

In the end, Peter found himself checking out of the hotel room and getting back into his car. He didn’t know why he believed Stiles, why he trusted him the way he did. Perhaps it was because of the loss of his pack? Perhaps he needed somebody- anybody, and Stiles filled that role?

In any case, he was soon on the road to Yellowstone, following the guidance of a man he knew nothing about.


	6. Chapter 6

Yellowstone wasn’t majestic as much as it was irritating to Peter’s nose.

The overwhelming smell of sulfur from the multiple geysers had him gritting his teeth and resisting the urge to turn around and leave. How did the local wildlife stand it?

He also didn’t see the point in standing around in a mulling crowd waiting for the bigger geysers to go off- altogether he felt this was not the tourist destination for him.

Peter drove around the winding roads aimlessly and stopped at a lodge as he waited irritably for some further sign from Stiles. What was he supposed to do here?

After awhile, he decided to get something to eat for dinner. He would leave after if there was still no sign of the mysterious man. 

Walking into the restaurant, Peter caught the eye of the staff. Smiling, a young woman approached him.

“Table for two?” She asked.

Peter blinked and opened his mouth.

“Yes please!” Stiles interrupted before he could say anything. He was standing to the side of Peter, almost bouncing in place.

With a grin, the woman gestured them ahead of her. With a bounce in his step, Stiles linked arms with Peter and pulled him in the direction indicated. 

After they were seated and the staff member had left them alone, Peter glared at Stiles.

“I’m here. Now what?”

“Now we eat! I haven’t ate in sooo long!” Stiles dramatically flailed about as he spoke.

Peter let out a low growl. “I doubt you brought me out here for the food.”

Stiles jabbed a finger in his direction. “I didn’t bring you out here- YOU brought you out here. I guide, you decide and act.”

Peter narrowed his eyes. It seemed very important to Stiles to emphasize that. He filed that fact away to consider another time.

“Very well. Why did you guide me out here then?”

“You got three tasks to complete, then the big finale.” Stiles was acting seriously again, sitting straight and still and staring down at Peter as he talked. “If you fail at any of the tasks or decide not to do them, you don’t reach the end. You, your pack, the earth all die. The Earth rots away as it’s sucked dry by the being you opened the doors to does what he does best- destroy.”

“Tell me about this demon- who and what was he?”

“He’s ancient. Old beyond any reckoning. He travels between realities and destroys everything he can. But like all beings of immense power, he has a set of guidelines that he must work with in, rules that can’t be broken. Magic always balances as much as possible. That’s why you have the chance to stop him.”

“A chance?”

“Of course- fate is never decided until it happens. One can see which way the current is going, but there’s always the chance that something will throw it off course. You diverted fate once. You might be able to do so again.”

“Why me?”

“You know the basics of magical theory. You already know the answer.” Gone was the serious manner. Stiles was slouching spinelessly in his chair as he drawled out his words.

Peter scowled. “Because it was my actions that started this.”

“Hm. Hold up one moment.” Stiles looked around. 

Peter heard it before he felt it. A sudden shifting of the earth beneath him, a groaning of the building. The ground started to shake. Patrons of the restaurant exclaimed in fear and shock when the earthquake hit. The ground beneath them rolled in angry waves as glass windows everywhere shattered inward. People were desperately crawling under tables and running for the exit. A glass shard sliced open Peter’s cheek. His skin healed quickly, but the sharp pain startled Peter.

Stiles cocked an eyebrow at him. “Well, it seems it’s time for us to get started.” He stood up and strode nonchalantly to the exit, hands in his pockets, seemingly ignoring the chaos around him.

Peter hurried after him, apprehensive and irritated at the same time. Everytime he got more answers he felt he had generated even more questions. He felt that he could trust Stiles, trust what he was saying, but at the same time he was suspicious of his willingness to trust the unknown stranger. Why was he doing his bidding? Why did Peter believe what Stiles told him without proof? 

He looked around at the chaos in the parking lot. He reached inward to his wolf. The wolf was calm and focused on the man in front of him. 

Scowling, wiped the the drying trail of blood off his face and continued to follow this Stiles. The earthquake died down and the sounds of emergency sirens started up as people recovered.

They bypassed his car and walked into the woods behind the restaurant. Stiles offered no more words or explanations as he led the way to a destination only he knew. Even to Peter’s ears, the sounds of the frantic humans behind them started to die down as they walked further into the wilderness.

Peter thought of trying to start up another conversation, but it felt wrong to break the silence between them.

They walked.

Night fell and they continued their trek. Peter was thankful for his improved eyesight and night vision, otherwise the darkness the encroached would have left him blind in the new place he found himself in.

The sulfuric smell grew stronger as they continued walking.

Peter tried breathing through his mouth, but that just seemed to make it worst, tasting the stagnant and stinking air as well as smelling it.

Finally they approached a pond of roiling, bubbling mud.

Stiles stopped and turned to Peter.

“Do you know how your former pack was going to die?” He continued without waiting for Peter to speak. “They were going to be burned alive as they slept. A hunter had targeted you, found a weak link and was going to strike” He cocked his head and looked at Peter. “You would have watched them all burn and been powerless to stop it.”

Peter didn’t have anything to say. His heart was beating fast and he felt a mix of apprehension and fear.

“Inside this mass of mud,” Stiles pointed to the mudpot, “lays an artifact. The artifact must be retrieved before dawn tomorrow. To retrieve it, you must go down there- you must burn and suffocate and fear and drown. If you don’t reach it you fail. If you do, you must bring it up here.”

Stiles looked sternly at Peter. “This is your choice. You can turn away. You can run. Or you can suffer for a quest that I have given you.”

Peter took a small step back.

“Why should I believe you?”

Stiles shrugged. “You already do. You know despite yourself that I am not lying to you about the consequences of what you decide to do next.”

Peter took another step back.

“And if I turn around and leave?” He challenged.

“Look down.” The command was softly issued.

Peter looked down, obeying despite himself. He was at an intersection of two game trails he noticed. 

“You made your first choice at a crossroads. This is your second.”

Peter looked up again. He was alone- Stiles had once again vanished.

He was alone. Ahead of him was a rolling, boiling area of dense mud and fumes.

At his back was what he had already left behind. He took a step forward.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning, Peter gets hurt a lot here in this chapter. He also eats some of the local wildlife, fyi.

Peter started by trying to be logical about it. He found a large elongated branch and used it to prod at the mass of stinking, boiling mud. Nothing. 

He circled it. The pool was not large across, with a diameter of about ten feet, but he couldn’t tell how deep it was. Was there a bottom to it? He reached down and emerged his hand and forearm into the mud. 

Immediately, the burning sensation hit him. The mud was thick and viscous. He pulled his arm out and inspected it. His skin had bubbled at the intensity of the burn and his healing took longer than he was used to to set it. He was a packless omega now- his healing would be very hindered. He considered the pool. Would he even survive it? He looked around, trying to come up with a plan.

Knowing that workings of magic relied on magical laws more than logic, Peter eventually gave up and braced himself. He stripped himself of his shoes and clothes. Then, steeling himself he stepped into the pool. He sank.

He burned.

Instinct took over and he turned even as his body sank deeper into the boiling mass and he flung out his claws, scouring the earth as he attempted to stop his decent.

He roared in pain as all the nerves in his body registered the intense burning. He leveled himself out of the pool and lay gasping and crying as the his skin peeled off under the layer of mud on himself and burning continued. Each breath and movement of his body brought more pain. 

It took far too long for the burning to stop and his healing to begin.

He lay gasping on the ground for some time. 

He looked at the pool.

How was he supposed to do this task?

Magic relied on will. He looked down at his new, pink skin. Sacrifice was a great magical component, as was will power. He had always prided himself on his own innate will power but he felt inadequate when faced with this herculean task.

In the distance, a pack of wolves sang out a song into the night. His own wolf perked up and listened. They were wolves out there, not were’s. Their song was beautiful.

He thought of his family, of his former pack. He thought of himself, what the end of the world would mean for his own well being.

He thought of the pack’s pups.

He got up. 

He went back into the pool.

This time he knew what agony awaited him. He sunk further down, growling and snarling against the pain of being burned alive.

The panic didn’t truly come until his head was almost under the mud. This was to become his tomb if he didn’t succeed.

He trashed out striking everywhere with feet and hands, trying to find something, anything that might be an artifact.

His head went under the mud. 

He couldn’t breath, but he could burn.

He kept searching. His foot kicked against something even as the his thoughts grew muffled by the lack of oxygen.

He breathed in sharply in response, flooding his lungs with the foul mud.

Instinct took over once again as he hauled himself out of the pool and onto the land to cough up the burning mud and he lay, spent for a long time as his body slowly and painfully knit itself back together.

He lay there for more than an hour recovering. 

He shook as he stood up again and once more regarded the pit.

He took a deep breath and dove in, head first and propelling himself forward in the thick liquid. He aimed for the place where he had felt something.

He flailed around before he once more felt it, a long, smooth surface. He grasped at it and pulled. 

It didn’t move.

He strained, his skin long burnt off, the air dying in his lungs.

It shifted slightly.

He grit his teeth, no longer able to feel anything but the pain and fear and yanked.

It came free.

Peter secured his hold on the item and trashed up to the surface.

He hauled himself up for the third time that night and collapsed.

His body was exhausted, he didn’t know if his healing would even be able to kick in before he died.

He curled up around the small object and passed out.

 

He awoke to stillness. 

His body held onto phantom pains as his nerves still registered pain even though the burning had long since stopped.

He flicked off the dried mud. Parts his body was fleshless, the skin and muscle yet to grow back from being burned off. He could see his bones, brittle and damaged in the long gaps where his skin would be.

Every breath he drew caused his lungs to strain.

He looked down to see what his suffering had brought him.

It resembled a large egg, but was heavier than even a stone of that size should be. He ran a hand around it. There was just a smooth curvature to the item, no cracks that he could see. Underneath the mud that was dried on top of it, Peter thought that it might be a pale white under it, looking like polished marble.

He stood up and staggered as he fought to remain standing.

He looked down at his wrecked body. He needed subsistence, energy and food for his body to use to heal. He was too wounded to shift, and besides that he was unwilling to let go his grasp on the object.

Slowly and painfully he put on his clothes. Every movement, every shift of the material against his body hurt. 

He listened. There was a whimpering of a wounded animal in the distance. He could make it that far. He staggered off.

He found the trapped hare under a tree branch. The earthquake had uprooted the tree and caught it.

Peter flicked out his claws and ended it’s life quickly.

He did not think as he tore into the body eating and gulping the flesh and blood down. He ate it all down to the bones, then cracked those to suck the marrow out of them.

Peter knew he had never been this close to his wolf before, but the necessity of survival seemed to mold their two consciousnesses together. When they were done with the meal, Peter listened more intently. He would need more food, more energy. He set out into the night.

 

Finally, as the sun was rising over the ridge of the earth, Peter was washing himself in a stream. His body was still healing but he could breathe and move freely.

He looked like a walking advertisement for fire awareness, as the skin that had grown over his body was pitted with scars, his healing unable to address those now.

His wolf had settled back down in his consciousness as his survival was no longer at risk. 

Peter looked around himself, gauging where he could be. He needed to get back to civilization. 

A bag crinkled behind him. Peter whirled around, the strange stone clutched tightly to his chest as his other hand sprouted claws to defend himself with.

Stiles looked unimpressed. He shook the bag at Peter. 

“Want one?”

Peter blinked. 

Stiles raised his eyebrows and shook it again. It was filled with colorful candy.

“Should get the taste of Bambi out of your mouth.” He quirked a grin at Peter.

Peter snarled at him in response.

“Come on, big bad. It’s saltwater taffy!”

Peter reigned himself in and reached out his still-clawed hand. He delicately took one of the taffies and unwrapped it before popping it in his mouth. 

Stiles smiled at him. 

Peter stared back in response.

“Come on,” Stiles turned around and started walking. “I got you a hotel room. You could use a shower and a rest.”

Peter followed him.


End file.
